<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>an angler's game by miraimisu</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509714">an angler's game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraimisu/pseuds/miraimisu'>miraimisu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rune Factory 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But it has a happy ending i promise, Dylas being peptalked into reason, F/M, Kissing, Light Angst, Misunderstanding, feat. the infamous fishing line of dialogue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:54:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraimisu/pseuds/miraimisu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a joke that Frey never expected to get so out of hand.</p><p>  <i>"Choose: fishing, or me?"</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dylas/Frey (Rune Factory)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>an angler's game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misskiku/gifts">Misskiku</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, Frey hates her boyfriend.</p><p>No, that's a stretch, and she shouldn't be thinking those things when she's this upset, but she can't help herself at times. It feels nice to give in to the anger and irritation from time to time, so long as nobody is watching.</p><p>So no, Frey doesn't hate Dylas. She's pretty sure she can't hate anyone, even if she tried– but he makes it very, very hard to be around him when he speaks without thinking.</p><p>Frey flops on her bed with a soft thud, groaning faintly into her pillow. The pitter-patter of the rain ensures nobody will hear her, so none of her butlers will try to meddle.</p><p>It had started with a very silly question, one that spilled out of her like a joke.</p><p>"<em>Choose: fishing, or me?"</em></p><p>Admittedly, even Frey at the time found the question childish and nearly uncalled for. She knows how uncomfortable Dylas gets when she puts him on the spot like that, but she had felt playful: a bit of flirting at the restaurant, a nice walk around the Selphia Plains… the mood had just been set. It was the <em>perfect </em>moment.</p><p>She had waited for him to say it's her, of course; that had been what she had expected, at least. Frey would never seriously ask him to pick between her and fishing, but Dylas doesn't do well with reading the mood sometimes.</p><p>So he took it in earnest. He fiddled, looked around, broke into a profuse sweat.</p><p>"<em>Um… well, I– I…"</em></p><p>Frey was confused. Why was he hesitating so much? Would he really tell her he'd rather spend the day alone with his fishing rod than <em>her</em>?</p><p>Sure, it made sense, as one is a hobby and she is, well, a <em>person</em>; but still… she thought they had made some progress, that the times he said he loved spending time with her were true declarations, not just pandering to her whims.</p><p>Is this what he had been doing all along? Pander to her whims when he probably wanted to go fishing?</p><p>Frey whirled around, hiding her hurt with a hand on her chest, stalking off. "Nevermind. Forget I asked!"</p><p>Dylas had tried to explain himself, scrambling after her even after she stormed through the town gates. Their silly banter had turned into a full-blown argument in front of Clorica, Forte and Leon, who watched as they butted heads.</p><p>"<em>That was a stupid joke, that's what it was. You should know the answer already!"</em></p><p>"<em>Then, why did it take you so long? You never take that long to pick a fight with Doug, or to tell me off when I try to take a nap on your bed! What even is that about, anyway?"</em></p><p>Looking back, Frey feels guilty for being so mean to him. Not mean, maybe, but it's unlike her to air dirty laundry like this. It's one thing to think something, and another is to throw it at someone's face. Dylas had looked no short from shocked at her words, and the image alone makes her stomach hurl.</p><p>"<em>I– I was just shocked, c'mon! You know I'm not good with these things!"</em></p><p>Frey's heart hurt, clenching the hem of her skirt as her throat constricted. <em>"I know you aren't, but I always give you the chance to at least– at least show me how you feel. To tell me what you're feeling, and sometimes, I think you might not feel anything at all!"</em></p><p>Dylas looked offended about that, hands balled into fists and taking a step towards her. Frey rarely feels as small as she did back there. <em>"You should know how I feel already!"</em></p><p>"<em>How do you expect me to be that sure? It's not like you've ever said that you love me!"</em></p><p>And <em>that </em>was when the argument stopped. Dylas flinched as though Frey had slapped him, which she might as well have; that would have been far less harmful than yelling her biggest insecurity to his face.</p><p>It's no secret to anyone in town that Dylas is… shy. In more ways than one. He's not exactly fond of physical contact, and he's a little clumsy with his words. Sometimes, he's a bit more than clumsy, but Frey always thought she knew how to read him.</p><p>Sometimes, whatever she might be trying to read might not be there at all, and Frey <em>hates </em>feeling stupid.</p><p>And right then, as the recoil of her words hit her in full swing, silence filled the air between them. Raindrops drizzled the plaza, and when she detected the smallest of cracks in his expression, she high tailed it out of there, busting into her bedroom.</p><p>And now she's here, contemplating how difficult it might be to quit her position and migrate somewhere in Norad. She's heard Sharance has beautiful trees in Spring.</p><p>She can hear Clorica talking to Vishnal outside her room, where Venti sleeps now. She couldn't care less if they're talking about her and Dylas, and only now does she realize that, by tomorrow, everyone will know about their little kerfuffle and they'll be the talk of the town.</p><p>Not to mention that she has no clue how she's going to talk to Dylas after saying all the horrendous things she said today.</p><p>Frey crawls under her sheets, checks the clock above her desk, and decides that six in the afternoon is a perfectly acceptable hour to go to bed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Facing Selphia after yesterday is oddly easy, all things considered. When Clorica comes to the shipping box as she tends to her potatoes, she makes no mention of the fight, but simply makes small chat with her.</p><p>Frey notices that Clorica is fully awake, for once, but before she can ask Clorica what was the occasion, she stalks off, mumbling something about Volkanon and tea.</p><p>She can always follow her and sit down with them for some tea. They'd never dare kick her out of a palace that she technically owns, but Frey knows that busying herself with mundane distractions won't make the day any easier. She has a meeting with Arthur, a lunch she promised to have with Meg, and she's supposed to do some training with Forte near the Obsidian Mansion.</p><p>This is going to be a normal day, so she starts it off by going through her normal route.</p><p>However, the moment she's out of the castle, she realizes that she always takes this route to visit Porco and Dylas first thing in the morning, and that's exactly what she <em>can't </em>do now.</p><p>So when she sees Dylas walking out of the restaurant, her heart stops– and judging by the way he freezes, so does his.</p><p>His eyes widen. "F-Frey," he breathes.</p><p><em>Calm down, Frey</em>, she tells herself as her heartbeat picks up. It's like she's facing Ethelberd again– or worse, Volkanon during a rainy day. She tries to move, but his amber eyes keep her rooted to the ground. <em>Gods, let me move! I'm making a fool out of myself!</em></p><p>Dylas looks… worried. Saddened, almost. Memories from yesterday come to her, and she screws her eyes shut to stave off the tears she's sure she already shed yesterday.</p><p>She's not used to not knowing how to deal with something, and since her feelings aren't something she can stab or kick off her way, she can only wallow in them and fidget like he did.</p><p>The look in his face is expectant, as though he's waiting for her to run to him like she always does, despite probably knowing today isn't one of those days. He looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.</p><p>He opens his mouth to talk.</p><p>Frey moves, walking past him as quickly as she can and booking it to the restaurant. She hears Dylas call her name, and in a second, the doors are closed again. No chase, no follow-up, nothing.</p><p>Her instincts are telling her to lay low, so that's what she's going to do.</p><p>She breathes in.</p><p>"My, Frey. I wouldn't have expected you to flee a situation this quickly."</p><p>She squeaks as she notices Arthur sitting on his sofa, sipping from his tea with the dignity only a prince like him would have. She frowns. "Gods, Arthur, don't scare me like that!"</p><p>He smiles sheepishly, gesturing to her to sit down. "My apologies. I thought you could use a little joke to calm down. You look rather agitated if I do say myself."</p><p>Arthur lifts the teapot in askance, and Frey shakes her head, deciding to fiddle with the hems of her stained gloves. She sighs, sitting down in front of Arthur. "I suppose you're alone now? I wouldn't want anyone to see me like this after yesterday– because I suppose you know about, um, what happened, right?"</p><p>His guilty expression says it all. Frey slumps against the sofa. "Forte told Kiel about it, and… Kiel is good at many things, but being discreet isn't one of them. I assure you everyone has agreed to be very respectful about the issue, though, so it should be smooth sailing."</p><p>"I just– I don't understand." Frey looks at her knees as she keeps playing with her fingers. "I mean, I do get it. But sometimes I wonder what's keeping Dylas around if he doesn't seem to feel anything."</p><p>Arthur frowns. "Well, that's a very unfair thing to say when he's not around. Is the situation that complicated?"</p><p>Frey thinks it isn't, and that she's making it much worse than it should be. If she had the right words for Dylas right now, they'd probably have solved this right after the fight ended. She's always quicker in the uptake– quicker than this, at least.</p><p>"It's just… he makes me doubt, sometimes.",</p><p>"What about?"</p><p>Frey looks up and sees that Arthur is reading from a very thick book, probably a half of his day's workload, and realizes she's very likely disturbing him. With a nervous laugh, she gets up. "Um, I probably shouldn't be bothering you, so maybe I should–"</p><p>The door clicks shut. Frey looks over her shoulder to see the key floating out of the lock and back into Arthur's hand, who looks at her with a mixture of confusion and concern.</p><p>"You're never a bother, Frey. I could use a small break, anyway, and I would love to help you as much as possible." He scratches his cheek with a dim blush. "Believe it or not, I have come to consider you as a part of my family– you and Dylas, I mean. I don't enjoy seeing you two suffer over a misunderstanding."</p><p>Her heart sinks. "Is… Is Dylas okay?"</p><p>"He's… upset. More upset than usual, that is. He doesn't seem to take kindly to change, which he was very much paranoid about yesterday night."</p><p>"What kind of change?"</p><p>"Well, do you plan on breaking up with him?"</p><p>Shock fills her to the very core, making her jump in her seat as she shouts, "No! Of course not! Or not until I know for certain what he feels." She rearranges the skirt of her dress, thinking about whether he'd agree with breaking up or not– she shakes her head. "I'm hoping this is just us being very bad at being honest, and not just… him not loving me."</p><p>Arthur laughs kindly. "Ah, I'm glad we're on a similar page. I told him the same thing, and it calmed him down somewhat. I assume you have also calmed down a little– Leon was very concerned about how angered you seemed."</p><p>Frey smiles. "He always says I look angry when I'm upset."</p><p>"He says that about anyone he finds cute. Of which you are a lot, sadly."</p><p>Frey sighs at that. Dylas has tried to compliment her a few times, but that's nor here or there. She'd try to wear blue colors, maybe an amusing outfit, and one time she even tried to wear a slightly shorter skirt that got no reaction out of him. He's like a brick wall not even Venti could bust through, so what can a human like Frey do?</p><p>Arthur stares at Frey evenly, and then places his book down with a patient sigh. He wipes his glasses with his cloak. "Clorica informed me that… it seems like Dylas never properly confessed to you. Is that true?"</p><p>Frey winces. "It's not like he didn't confess to me, but– he always does things in a very roundabout way. Don't get me wrong, it's not something that bothered me in the past, but it's been nagging me for a while now."</p><p>"He never told you with <em>words</em>, you say?"</p><p>The difference and emphasis don't go unnoticed. Frey quirks an eyebrow. "I suppose he didn't."</p><p>"I think… Dylas may be more subtle with his feelings than you may notice." Arthur puts his glasses back on and blinks. "I have never had a serious relationship, so I truly have no degree of awareness for these situations, but I trust that you are more outspoken in general, whereas he expresses himself differently."</p><p>It's not like she doesn't know that already, but it's a nice reminder. Loving Dylas isn't easy sometimes, but if hardships put her off, she would be out of Selphia and not a princess. Loving him is an art in and of itself: she knows the strokes he likes, the touches he doesn't like, and those he secretly adores.</p><p>Or at least, she thinks she knows. It's a game of hit or miss sometimes. She enjoys challenges, but she doesn't enjoy feeling stupid.</p><p>Still, she smiles, remembering the times he <em>did </em>appreciate her gestures. "I know. I just wish he'd be clearer about what he feels and I didn't have to rely on instinct to tell. Maybe it'd work with other people like Jones and Nancy, but we <em>aren't </em>like them."</p><p>"Comparing oneself to those two is unfair, being honest," Arthur says with a grin. "I see your point, though. I can't picture myself having to guess my partner's feelings unless we have that level of trust and intimacy, which I assume Dylas is reluctant to give."</p><p>"Exactly." Frey sighs. "And I still love him, don't get me wrong. I just wish things were a bit more…" Frey blushes, smiling awkwardly. "I'm unsure how to put it. I wish we were <em>more</em>, that's all."</p><p>Arthur nods. "Perhaps it would be good for you to take it easy today. I always see you running in and out of town. I understand you're a busybody, but maybe some rest is in order."</p><p>That's not a bad idea. She's been mining everywhere around town to fix her armor and sword, gathering scales in Leon Karnak and finding treasures in Rune Prana, a place that still haunts her sleep. She hasn't played with Amber in a while, and it's been even longer since she's attended any of Meg's plays.</p><p>She's had little time to sit down and talk to her friends lately, and it's downright shameful that what little they've seen of her this week was an argument with Dylas.</p><p>Frey smiles. "I might take you up on that– if you promise me you will take some time off today, as well."</p><p>"I suppose that wouldn't be inconvenient. I could use some time to read a book the king sent me, as well as send a letter to my relatives in the north, and perhaps…"</p><p>Arthur starts writing things down. As he rambles to himself, Frey slips into the restaurant area and out of the building, stalking off to the hot springs; Lin Fa will be happy to see her.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Frey gets home feeling refreshed, rested, and in a much better mood than when she woke up. The scent of the jasmine bath she took trails after her into the room, and if it weren't for the vehement promise she made to Volkanon after talking to Arthur that she'd take this day free completely, she'd go hunt in the snowy plains near the Sechs Empire.</p><p>It's odd to think she has so much free time, yet she's done as much socializing as she could and she's bought enough supplies to last a month.</p><p>Maybe, just <em>maybe</em>, she could make Porcoline something with the mushrooms she picked yesterday, she could make Arthur some onigiri and… maybe a milk porridge for Dylas, who she hasn't seen today and she misses. A <em>lot</em>.</p><p>If she weren't so prideful, she'd seek him out first, but she doesn't want to ruin her mood today, so maybe she'll take tiny steps closer to resolution.</p><p>First things first, she'll make him a bowl of milk porridge–</p><p>Two gentle knocks on her door make her turn around on her way to the kitchen. It's probably Doug with the bag of rice she asked for earlier and he didn't have in stock.</p><p>When she opens the door, she does see the bag of rice– but it's not Doug behind it, but Dylas.</p><p>Her cheeks instantly heat up. Her grip on the door tightens. "O-Oh. Um. Hi."</p><p>"Yeah. Hi." They stare at each other for a few seconds in silence. Frey watches how the rising moonlight reflects on his soft hair, his eyes. "Doug told me to, uh, give this to you. He was too busy to get it done himself."</p><p>Weird of Dylas to do Doug a favor, but she's glad to see the rice– and her boyfriend, too. "I– I see. Thank you."</p><p>Frey takes the sack from his arms and carries it inside. To her surprise, Dylas follows her in, too, much like he'd do after taking her home after a date. He stops when she enters the kitchen, though, and when she's out again, he's sitting on her bed, looking troubled.</p><p>She bites her lip, fighting a knowing smile. "You're not only here on delivery service, are you?"</p><p>Of course, his first reaction is an outraged frown, fake in all ways imaginable. "Of course I was! I only… I just– that <em>dwarf</em>, he…" Staring into her eyes, Dylas gives up the fight, looking at the floor. "Y-You know me too well."</p><p>Her lips curl into a lopsided smile. "Do I, really?"</p><p>Frey sighs as she takes a seat next to him; close enough for him to know she's here, but far away for him to safely talk without feeling overwhelmed. She can feel him watching her, even with his head dipped low and in silence like he is now.</p><p>She can't take the quietness when they used to be all about laughter and silly jokes. She never meant for things to turn this sour.</p><p>Her heart squeezes.</p><p>"I'm sorry!"</p><p>They startle each other with their apologies. Dylas blinks, wide-eyed. He looks at her like she's grown another head. "Wha? What on Earth are you apologizing for?"</p><p>Frey bites her lip. She's tempted to both run away and hug him crazy. Just the fact that they're apologizing has her on a heartbeat marathon. "W-Well… I did say very insensitive things yesterday, and you had a point, I think." She purses her lips. "I shouldn't have behaved like that."</p><p>Dylas shakes his head, brows knit. "Gods, Frey, you don't have to apologize–"</p><p>She scoots closer. "But I do! I shouldn't have pushed you to give me an answer you couldn't provide. And I shouldn't have doubted you the way I did, even if it was just a joke."</p><p>He's quiet now, watching her fiddle when, in the past, it'd be the opposite and she'd tease him relentlessly about it. Dylas being so collected surprises her, but she's happy to see him he has his ducks on a row this time around. He looks a bit lost for words, though.</p><p>"You… you were right, though."</p><p>A trickle of dread caresses her poor heart. "... What do you mean?"</p><p>"About me never saying how I feel," he says, struggling to get his voice out. He gulps, and his expression falls into soft shame. "I've never really professed my feelings the way you probably expected. It never crossed my mind you'd have an issue with that, and I thought it was silly you ever had doubts, but… I see it clearer now."</p><p>"You do?"</p><p>"The girls kind of cornered me to give me a pep talk." Frey pales at the image of them all ambushing him, but he shrugs. "Not gonna lie, it didn't feel all that bad. Didn't like how they tried to comb my hair into a braid, though."</p><p>Frey laughs nervously. "That sounds more like a pajama party…"</p><p>He blushes. "That– That's not the point. The point is that I get it. Not gonna lie, I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't been as blunt as you are about how you feel. It's nice to be reminded that you're loved when you don't think you deserve it."</p><p>Her eyes soften. She scoots even closer. "Don't be ridiculous. You deserve it as much as anyone else."</p><p>"That's not how I felt back then– but, see? You make it look so easy, but I can't get a damn word out. <em>That</em>'s ridiculous." He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I couldn't say how I felt even if I knew it hurt you not to know. How can you be with me when I can't give you something so basic?"</p><p>The selfish answer is the easiest one. She could very well go into a diatribe about how pitiful she feels, how sad she is, how she wishes he understood– but the thing is, he does understand. He knows what it's like to not feel fully comfortable with the truth and that the only way to change it is to overcome it.</p><p>Frey sighs, but it's much lighter and softer than she intended. She combs a stray strand of hair behind his ear, and he inhales sharply. "It's basic for me, but it's not basic for you. Fishing is basic for you, but not for me. We just need to adapt and get used to how we work. I think it's worth it, don't you think?"</p><p>Dylas looks taken aback, blinking profusely at her. "I– I mean, yeah. It's worth it. Of course it's worth it." His lips curl into a slight smile, the softest expression she knows he can muster. "You're worth all of it."</p><p>Her heart blooms with warmth, the kind she gets when he touches her hair or he tugs her closer when they walk around a dangerous place. With a giddy smile, she grabs his hand from his lap, but when she realizes what she's done, she lets it go.</p><p>Dylas catches it right back, holding it with tight determination. An angry blush splashes on his cheeks, but he doesn't hide it. Frey's eyes widen, equally surprised. "D-Dylas?"</p><p>He turns to her. Even when seated, he's a bit taller than her. Lifting a hand to her hair, he chuckles breathlessly when she yelps, and caresses her hair tenderly, almost like a feather brushing her skin.</p><p>His blush deepens, and he closes his eyes, visibly embarrassed. "I don't know if you know, but… I like… touching your hair." She's met with his honey gaze again, too shocked to really say anything, so she just watches. "It's very soft. A-And I don't understand how you comb this. The girls make it look so easy."</p><p>She smiles, closing her eyes as she relaxes under his testing, attentive touch. "Potions sometimes help. You can always come here and help me if you want."</p><p>His fingers lift from her hair. "That'd be very nice… if– if I'm not a bother, that is." Before she can give him a response, he cups her cheeks, stealing any rational words from her with one touch alone. His thumbs dust under her eyes. "I– I also like grabbing your cheeks. Like this."</p><p>Frey can feel her face heat up under his cool palms. It's like her whole body is about to combust. It's filled with embarrassed, pleasant, and heady fire. He's so careful with her, so affectionate, so earnest… it's a whole new view on him she never even thought she'd see. She's loving it.</p><p>His fingers trace the underside of her ear. She gasps. "You're so adorable and– and so stupid."</p><p>Frey's eyes flutter open. She slants her hands over his. "Dylas…"</p><p>He looks really surprised for a second, but he sighs next, grabbing one of her hands while cupping her cheek with her other. "Your hands are so warm. I feel like I don't deserve to be held the way you hold me. Nobody does, really– maybe Arthur, but you don't wear any glasses, so..."</p><p>She giggles. "You want to sell me off so early? I thought we would grow old together."</p><p>He gasps. "You did?"</p><p>… That might have been a bit much. She hadn't planned on confessing something so heavy and cheesy in the middle of an honest conversation, but this is as good a time as any. "Well… maybe. I don't really see myself with anyone but you, even if… even if we don't understand each other all the time. I just want to be with you for as long as I can– if you want to, that is."</p><p>His touch has gone awfully still, so much so she feels she's screwing up further and further, so she shuts up.</p><p>Dylas doesn't, though.</p><p>"You… you really wanna be with me?"</p><p>"Why do you think I'm with you, dummy?" She shakes her head, caressing his face, tracing the scar on his jaw, the shape of his cheeks. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be by your side for a long time. I can only hope you'll–!"</p><p>His lips muffle her words and suck in the little gasp she lets out. He braces her against him, pushing her to his chest, holding her so close and so tight butterflies are blooming at the tip of her fingertips. She bunches the fabric of his jacket, sighs in bliss as he caresses her tenderly.</p><p>She yelps as he pushes further, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pushing her a bit under until she's supporting herself on one elbow, tempted to pull him to the bed with her. Frey outright moans when his tongue slides against hers, and her whole body vibrates with gusto.</p><p>When he pulls away, she's breathless, gulping as he gazes down at her with bright intensity. "What was–"</p><p>"I love you."</p><p>It only dawns on her two seconds later, and his gaze is unwavering, looking at her like she's both his world and something much more than that. Her heart drums in her ribcage. "What?"</p><p>"I said that I love you," he repeats a tad more stubbornly, frowning in embarrassment. "I– love you, Frey. I love you– and I love you more than fishing, more than cooking, more than fucking anyth–"</p><p>She pushes him down for another kiss, giggling against his lips as he gasps. His arms curl around her, and where he would hesitate to touch her skin and kiss her this thoroughly, he has no qualms now, feeding her with the heated affection and caresses she's been secretly longing all along.</p><p>And when she whispers that she loves him, that she adores him, he whispers just as much, like a little hummingbird beginning to fly– and she isn't sure, but somehow, it feels like something new is about to begin, something warm, exciting, and new.</p><p>But that's nor here nor there.</p><p>So she lets him take her breath away.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIKZ I LOVE YOU SWEETHEART please take our smol ship as a gift, I could literally write fics out of everything Dylas says LMAO</p><p>I'm very happy with this fic and you're lucky I didn't harp harder on the angst so thou art welcome /skates away</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>